


Innocent Man

by mywritingsaboutwrestlers



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Dean gets in fights, F/M, Feels, I know nothing about hospitals btw, Smut, Someone dies, Violence, dean and reader have been friends for years, dean gets blamed, dean goes to jail, graphic depictions of blood and an ER, graphic depictions of hospitals, psycho attacks reader in a hospital, reader is a nurse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-28 21:59:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16731405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mywritingsaboutwrestlers/pseuds/mywritingsaboutwrestlers
Summary: Dean and Reader have been friends since they were kids. Once night, after a dance, they go to a party, where Dean gets into a fight. Later that night, the student he fought was found murdered and Dean is blamed as he had no alibi and it was his knife used. Throughout the years, reader and Dean keep in touch until he's finally released from prison. One day, during one of the reader's shifts at the hospital, the truth is finally spilled.





	Innocent Man

**Author's Note:**

> Who doesn't love Dean with shaved hair? His return was amazing btw

           Inseparable was the best word to describe your friendship with Dean Ambrose when you two were kids. You two did absolutely  _everything_  together, even when you were in high school, you two would go to the dances together, would try and plan your schedules so you could have as many classes together as you could, you went to every party together. All through high school, Dean was notorious for getting into fights, defending other kids from bullies. You tried keeping him out of trouble, but that wasn’t easy and nearly impossible. But he only fought when he felt the need to protect someone, especially you. You were the only good thing in his life, according to him, so he always made sure you stayed out of harms way. But then that fateful night happened where everything changed.

           There was one other student, one that Dean clashed with often, one that treated you horribly whenever he could. The fights were considered “legendary” amongst other students, often ending bloody and with one of them needing a hospital, more often the other student needing it as Dean had you to patch him up. You new a lot about first-aid by the time you were seventeen, having butterflied many of his wounds as well as setting a few bones. Dean had told you that you should be a nurse once, saying that your caring nature could do wonders, especially with how you gently patched him up. It was at your prom after party, held at the richest student’s house, when everything went wrong. Everyone had been having a good time, dancing and laughing, drinking a little too much, but it was a fun time. You and Dean danced together, getting a little too close, long-time feelings bubbling between the two of you. Dean had started complaining about the knife he lost a few minutes before, not feeling secure without it in his back pocket.  But then a fist was connecting with his cheek, the other student laughing as Dean stumbled.

           Dean was quick to retaliate, throwing his entire body into him, knocking him down and immediately pummeling him. The other student barely stood a chance, especially with Dean having alcohol in his system. You barely managed to get him off, grabbing him by the arm as he swung it backwards. He nearly hit you in his anger, but stopped the second he knew it was you. He climbed off the kid, stalking away in anger. You sighed. You went to follow him, but were soon being yelled at by the kid that he had pummeled, the guy shoving you against a wall. Others forced him away from you. He walked away, not to be seen for the rest of the night. You looked for Dean, but you couldn’t find him, figuring he had headed home already. He did that sometimes, needing to blow off steam by taking a walk. You searched for him all through the house before heading outside into the cold night air, your dress blowing softly in the cold wind. A horrified scream filled the air as you stepped off the porch. You and several other people spilled out onto the front lawn, following the stream of students into the trees.

           The sight in front of you horrified you: the student Dean had fought was dead on the ground, eyes staring blankly up at the sky, blood pooling around him. There was a knife on the ground next to him. Everyone started freaking out, one of the girls calling the cops. It wasn’t long before sirens filled the air, and everyone was forced out of the way. Then came the interviews, cops pulling students aside to ask them what happened. And everyone had the same story: the kid was fighting Dean Ambrose, Dean pummeled the kid, walked away, the kid went after you, and then left. The cops realized you might know more, so one older man pulled you aside, his face serious.

           “Miss, have you seen Dean Ambrose since the fight?”

           You shook your head. “I was going to look for him when I heard the girl scream.”

           “Why were you going to look for him?” He scribbled on his notepad.

           “He’s my best friend.”

           “Do you think he did it?”

           That question shocked you. “Dean would never. He gets in a lot of fights, but he would never,  _ever_  do something horrific like this.”

           The officer raised an eyebrow, flipping to another page. “I’ve had about five other students tell me that Dean and the deceased student were very… volatile with one another, Dean usually coming out on top. Are you sure he wouldn’t do this?”

           “Positive.”

           But your testimony wasn’t enough. Everyone else at that party was sure Dean had done it, and when Dean was found, he was arrested immediately. He had screamed and shouted that he hadn’t done it as they forced him into the back of the police car, you crying as you watched it happen. There was several weeks of trial, only to find out that the knife was the one Dean lost, his fingerprints all over it. You didn’t believe it, not for a second, but Dean was sentenced to fifteen years in prison. He had accepted it so easily at this point, his eyes catching yours for a second as he was escorted out of the court room in cuffs. You were the only person in that court room that shouted it was wrong while everyone else cheered that a ‘lunatic’ was being put behind bars.

           The first two months were rough. Everyone at school asked you if you knew Dean had it in him. Another kid started trying to be your friend, coming off as a creep. You assumed he approached you because Dean wasn’t around you anymore. After you graduated, you were grateful to get away from that kid.

You tried visiting Dean in prison, but he never wanted to see you. After a while, he would come to the visiting areas, sitting across from you, never meeting your eyes. He usually had bruises littering his skin, his face stubbled. It broke your heart to see him so broken. He got a little light in his eyes when you told him you believed he was innocent. He had almost cried when you said that, grasping your hand tightly in his. He thanked you, but asked you to not visit him anymore. You had started to protest, but a stern look from him made you stop.

           “There are some rough guys in here, doll. I’m already running into trouble with that asshole’s family that are in here and I don’t want them gettin’ any funny ideas.” He eyed a table next to you, another inmate glaring at the two of you.

           “Dean, are you going to be okay?” you asked, tears filling your eyes.

           He gave you a dimpled smile, shaking his shaggy hair from his face. “I’ll be fine, doll. I’ll make a compromise with you: instead of visiting, you can write me letters and I’ll write you back.” He squeezed your hand, a smile on his face. “Would that be alright?”

           You nodded.

           “Thanks.”

           The buzzer rang, signaling the end of visiting hours. You stood up, walking around the table to give Dean a firm hug. He returned it, burying his face in your neck. You parted ways.

———-

           Over the next fifteen years you two wrote letters to one another. He told you about life in prison, how everything was going, how he was known for protecting other inmates. You told him about college, how you finally got into the nursing program and were now a registered nurse at the local hospital. He always congratulated you, telling you how happy he was that you enjoyed your job, encouraging you to push yourself to be better, but never too hard. You kept every single letter, folded nicely in their envelopes and put away in a little wooden box you kept in the closet of your little apartment. Every letter felt like you had Dean with you, and you cherished every one of them, still believing he was innocent after all this time, though he told you to not worry about it. He was already doing the time.

           Some of the letters he sent asked about your love life. He was always protective of you and in high school it had been hard for you to date anybody as Dean didn’t approve of anyone. But alas, your love life was practically non-existent. Between college, becoming a nurse, and working five to six days a week with eight to twelve hour shifts, you felt you didn’t have the time to date. You tried dating a few times, but none of the men were what you wanted. If you were honest with yourself, all you had ever wanted was Dean. But you could never tell him that. So, you simply told him you didn’t have time for a love life and left it at that. Still, he asked time and again, wondering if you had anyone taking care of you. You knew you could take care of yourself just fine; Dean was just a worrier.

           Dean’s release date was finally coming up. You promised him you’d pick him up, requesting the day of months in advance. He had said not to worry, but you were adamant. He caved. You stood outside of the prison, leaning against your little car as you waited for Dean to walk out. You wondered if he looked the same, since you hadn’t seen him in almost fifteen years. You imagined him to still be tall and lanky, all shaggy hair and stubbled cheeks.

           But that’s not what you were greeted with. He was tall, broad and muscled wearing a tight tank top and a pair of gray jeans. His hair was cut short, a thick beard on his face. He looked grumpy as he walked out, a small bundle in one of his hands. He looked around for a minute as you gawked, his eyes finally landing on you. He looked a bit taken back, smiling wide when he realized it was you, just all grown up and mature looking, having filled out just right. Dean was practically swaggering as he walked toward you, a bright smile growing on his face. You couldn’t help yourself, running towards him and pulling him into a tight hug. He hugged you back just as tightly, lifting you ever so slightly into the air. You pulled apart, looking him over with a look of amazement on your face.

           “Jesus, Dean, you got huge,” you said, looking back up at him.

           He smiled, his dimples hidden under his beard, but you could still see them. “Prison does that, doll.” He hugged you again, pressing his nose to your hair. “Thanks for coming to get me. Think you can take me to the court house?”

           You ruffled his short hair fondly. “Of course I can.”

           The two of you walked to your car, Dean handling the little bundle he held carefully. You were off to the courthouse, which wasn’t far. The ride was quiet, soft music filling the silence.

           “I like what you did with your hair,” he commented.

           You smiled at him, turning to look at him before looking back at the road. “Thanks, Deano. I’m digging your hair. I was expecting it to be all shaggy like you used to have it, but this works for you. Makes you look mature.”

           “Shit I look mature? I’m gonna have to grow it out I guess,” he teased.

           You chuckled. “I wanna know how you got so big? You used to be all lanky, not this big muscular guy.”

           He rolled his shoulders and popped his neck. “I had to have someway to get my stress out, so I worked out. Of course, you know, got into a lot of fights, too, but hey, I’m not perfect.” His blue eyes met yours momentarily as you pulled up to the court house. “You can wait here for me, doll. I shouldn’t be long.”

———-

           So, you waited for him, standing outside your car, tapping away on your phone. He was gone for about thirty minutes before coming back out, a signed piece of paper in hand. “I’m finally a free man.”

           You smiled at him, hugging him tightly. “You should’ve always been a free man all along.”

           “Doll, we ain’t getting in this argument right now. I’ve already done the time for it. Whether I did it or not is not something you need to worry about.”

           “Dean-“

           “Can we not talk about it? I just wanna go home and sleep for a while.”

           “Okay. Get your butt in the car then. We can go to my place, I can make dinner, and  _then_ you can go to sleep.”

           He was opening the passenger door, smiling wide. “That sounds like heaven, doll.”

           The drive home was quiet. Once you arrived, Dean was practically scrambling out of the car and heading for your apartment building before you had even turned the car off. You followed him, smiling as he followed you up the stairs to your quaint apartment. Once inside, he flopped on the couch, that same bundle still in his hand.

           “Where am I sleeping?” he asked, looking around your apartment.

           “Guest bedroom in down the hallway, last door on the left. You can get comfortable. I’ve got some extra clothes somewhere that might fit you. You’re uh, much bigger than the last time I saw you.” You gave him a cheeky smile as you headed down the hallway. Dean got up to follow you, his large frame towering over you. Dean opened the door to the guest room, setting the bundle on the dresser before going to the bed, flopping down on it. He gave you a smile as he looked over at you. You could only roll your eyes, going across the hall to your room. You went to your dresser, digging around for your baggier clothes. You found a t shirt and a pair of basketball shorts that you hoped would fit Dean in some way. You went back across the hall, tossing the clothes on his stomach. “You can change. Do we need to go clothes shopping?”

           “I can do that myself, thanks. I need to get a job first.” He got up from the bed, shaking out the clothes. He whipped his shirt off, revealing his trim, muscled body. You couldn’t help staring at him, eyes traveling over his lightly hair chest down to his abs, the trail of hair disappearing into his low hanging pants. You excused yourself quickly, closing the door behind yourself. You went into the kitchen, grabbing some chicken from the fridge along with some green beans, and then rice from your cupboard. You set everything up, turning on the oven and everything else you needed to do. A few minutes went by and the soft padding of feet made you look behind you to see that Dean had gone without the shirt, but wore the basketball shorts, which were hanging a little low on his hips. “Whatcha cooking, doll?”

           “Food,” you replied, watching him roll his eyes at your response. “I actually wanted to talk to you, Dean.”

           He snagged a green bean, snapping it in half and popping it in his mouth. “About what?’

           “Why did you never contest the fact that you didn’t kill that kid all those years ago?” You turned to him, genuine concern and curiosity in your voice.

           “We’ve been over this-“

           “I know, Dean, but I know you didn’t do it.” You set the knife you had in your hand down, taking his hands in yours. “You and I both know you didn’t do it and the real killer is still out there, living their life normally while you had to do time in prison. You could have contested it.”

           He squeezed your hands. “I didn’t have an alibi, doll. And there weren’t any other suspects, so I didn’t have much of a choice.”

           “Yes you did, Dean.”

           He pulled his hands from yours, turning around to leave the kitchen. “I asked you to drop it and I would like you to drop it.”

           “No.” You crossed your arms as he turned to look at you. He raised an eyebrow at you. “I’m not going to drop it, Dean. You didn’t deserve to do the time. You and I both know you had nothing to do with his murder and I’m not going to drop it until you acknowledge the fact that you are an innocent man that did time in prison.”

           Dean walked towards you, more like stalked towards you, his blue eyes dark. You backed up into the counter, Dean closing in on you. He trapped you, his hands on either side of you as he ducked his head, his expression dark. “You need to drop it, doll. I already did the time for the crime, even if I didn’t do it. And I would really like to forget about it, if you’d be so kind.” His eyes darted over your face, eyes on your mouth for a few seconds as he licked his lips.

           You would never say it out loud, but you were incredibly turned on by his actions, heart racing and thighs rubbing together slightly as he stepped back. You nodded.

           “Thank you.” He turned back around, leaving the kitchen.

           You released the breath you didn’t realize you were holding, thighs shaking as you gripped the counter behind you. You quickly went bac to making dinner, trying hard to not think about his chiseled body or the way he had looked at you, his eyes dark and his voice dropping. You tried hard to forget about it, but when dinner was done, and the two of you were sitting on your couch, knees touching as you watched tv and ate dinner, you were highly aware of the fact that Dean was radiating heat and practically oozing sex appeal. You excused yourself as soon as dinner was done, knowing you had work the next day.

           “Hey, Dean, so I have to be up at six and at work by nine. I’ve got a ten-hour shift at the hospital tomorrow and I won’t be home ‘til eight tomorrow. Do you think you can occupy yourself for that long?”

           “Doll, I was in prison for fifteen years. I’m sure I’ll make do. I’ll probably spend the day looking for a job.” He set his plate in the sink, rinsing it off. He took yours from you, doing the same thing with yours. “How is it, being a nurse?”

           “Well,” you headed back to the living room, “I’ve seen some fucked up shit, if that’s what you’re asking. Just last week a guy came in with a knife in his neck and a few other ones sticking out of other places. This is confidential, but he and his friends were playing a game and throwing knives at one another. He got most of them.”

           Dean’s eyebrows shot up. “Seriously?”

           “I’ve seen worse than that, actually, and I’ve… I’ve seen a lot of death, which makes the job really hard, but it makes me want to do better every day.” You gave him a bit of a smile.

           “Wow, doll, you’re a hero.” He was looking at you in wonder as he stood up, taking your hands in his. “Do you have any more stories?”

           You spent the next two hours telling him about different things you had done as a nurse, some of the lives you had helped save, others that had been lost, and a few of the funnier stories you had to tell. When the two of you realized how late it was, you scrambled to go to bed, giving Dean a quick kiss on the cheek goodnight, going to your room. You still thought of earlier in the kitchen as you went to bed. It plagued your sleep as well, having dirty dreams about your best friend. You woke up needing a cold shower, trying to push it from your thoughts as you washed yourself, the water pounding down on you. You got ready for work, throwing your hair up into a ponytail and getting dressed. You packed your scrubs as well as an extra pair, along with two pairs of shoes. You packed a quick lunch as well, turning on the tv as you ate a quick breakfast, the news bleak and boring. You switched the channel as Dean shuffled out into the living room in just his underwear, plopping down next to you on the couch.

           You gave him a quiet good morning as he rubbed his eyes, the man simply grunting. You chuckled a bit, standing up once you finished your breakfast. “I’m off to work. I’ll see you tonight.” You grabbed your jacket and keys, watching Dean stand up. He shuffled over to you, kissing your temple.

           “Go save lives, doll.”

———-

           The hospital was busy, especially the ER where you were stationed for the day. A major car accident had happened and several people were brought in, nurses and doctor’s running around to help patients, and people crying and asking about loved ones. You were assigned to one particular patient from the accident, a man with severe injuries that didn’t need surgery, but were still horrible. You thought for a moment you recognized him as you checked all the fluids and machines he was hooked up to, but brushed the thought aside.

           “I know you,” he rasped out as you checked his blood pressure, his eyes scanning your face. “We went to high school together.”

           You gave him a quick smile, writing down his blood pressure once you removed the cuff from his arm.

           “I had a crush on you, but I never did anything ‘cause I knew that Ambrose guy didn’t like guys approaching you like that.”

           You froze for a second, but continued working, humming in acknowledgement.

           “I remember the party, too. The night that kid was murdered. Too bad they never caught the real murderer.”

           You looked at him, eyes wide as you stared at him. He was giving you a smile that made your stomach twist. You went about giving him more fluids.

           “I remember the look on the kids face when I shoved the knife in his stomach.”

           That made you stop completely. You really looked at him now, realizing  _exactly who he was_. He was the creepy kid that had tried being your friend after Dean was arrested. Everyone at school thought he was weird and you had even caught him torturing a poor stray cat that hung around the school. You had stopped him, and he had been rather mad at you about it.

           “What the fuck are you talking about?” you asked lowly, eyes wild as you stared at the man.

           “I’ve been in love with you since middle school, baby. But you were always around Ambrose and he didn’t like me much.” He sat up, making you step back. He groaned in pain as he shifted. “But then he and that kid hated each other. It gave me the perfect opportunity to-“ he tried to stand from the bed, struggling to do so as you backed against the wall in fear, “get Ambrose out of the picture, and he always had a knife on him, just in case things got  _too_ dangerous.” He was smiling sickly, pulling one of the needles from his skin. “I tried getting close to you after that, but you shut me out rather quickly. And now, I’m lucky enough, fifteen years later, to see you here, to finally get you alone.” He lunged at you, making you screech in fear, your hand flying on its own to punch him. He managed to get you on the ground, his bandages ripping away and blood flowing from them freely. Several nurses rushed in, getting the man away from you and pinning him to the bed.

           The man was screaming and kicking, trying to get back to you. “I killed him for you! I killed him for you!” he screamed.

           The cops were called, handcuffing him to the bed as he continued to scream that he was the one that killed that kid, not Dean. The cops were baffled, especially the old detective, the same one that had taken your statement so many years ago. He approached you as you stood in the hall shaking.

           “Are you alright?” he asked softly.

           You shook your head.

           “Did he say anything else to you? Other than his admittance to the murder from fifteen years ago?”

           “He did it for me…” you whispered, on the verge of tears.

           “What was that?”

           “He did it because he had a crush on me and wanted to get me away from Dean when we were teenagers. He… He killed that kid with Dean’s knife…” You started sobbing, burying your face in your hands. “I-It’s a-all my fau-fault.”

           The detective rested a hand on your shoulder. “It’s not your fault and it never has. It just means that we failed as detectives in our department.” You looked up at him, still crying as you tried t take a deep breath. “We let an innocent man go to jail for that psycho’s crime. This may be a lengthy trial, Miss.”

           “I d-don’t care. I j-just want D-Dean to n-not be bl-blamed anym-more.” You realized you were covered in his blood, shaking harder as you looked down at your scrubs.

           The detective grabbed both of your shoulders gently. “I’ll make this right. You go home, okay? Your shift supervisor already spoke to me and is willing to give you a week off.”

           You nodded, walking away from him. Once you changed your clothes, throwing away your scrubs, you went back out towards the ER, the detective giving you his number as well as taking down your information in case he needed to call you. You were still shaking as you drove home, your hands barely able to get the keys into the door knob. You opened the door to find Dean sitting on the couch channel-surfing. He looked up, giving you a smile, but it dropped the second he saw the look on your face. You broke down immediately, sobbing and shaking uncontrollably. His arms were around your waist, pulling you against his muscular frame, stroking your hair as he rocked back and forth.

           “Jesus, what happened, doll?” You pulled away, cupping your cheeks to look at you properly. “What happened?”

           You shook your head, twisting the fabric of his shirt in your hands. “I-I was a-attacked a-at th-the h-hos-hospital by th-the guy that ac-actually killed th-that kid.”

           Dean’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

           “The guy that shou-hould’ve gone to f-fucking jail in-instead of y-you attacked me today. H-He was in a car ac-accident and I was-as-assigned to him and he said th-that he murdered the k-kid with your knife to g-get you away from me.” You were trying to take a deep breath, but you were on the verge of hyperventilating, your legs giving out.

           Dean caught you, lifting you with ease to take you to your room. “Jesus…” he mumbled against your hair, setting you down on your bed. “The fucker finally came forward. Who is it?”

           You clung to him tightly, not wanting to let go of him, shaking your head.

           “Okay, okay, let’s just lay down for a minute.” He slid into bed next to you, holding you close. “It’s okay, you’re okay. You’re safe.” He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, holding you tightly as he rubbed your shoulders. You finally managed to stop crying, sniffling and hiccupping as you clung to him, your breath finally steadying. “Do you think you can talk about it now?”

           You sat up, rubbing your eyes. Dean followed, his hand on your lower back as if to steady you. “You remember that kid in high school that I caught torturing animals?”

           Dean’s eyes widened. “That creepy fucker? He was the one that…” Dean looked down at his hand. “I always knew he had a thing for you, but I never thought he’d… And he pursued you after I was in prison?”

           You nodded, wiping your cheeks. “He did for a while, but as soon as we graduated, I cut him out of my life completely. He creeped me out. And now I know why.”

———-

           The next three months were full of trials as everything came out that Dean was an innocent man and the other man should have gone to prison. You thought you were done with trials, thought you’d been done with them when Dean was on trial. But now here you were testifying about the same murder, but a different murderer. It was a painful and slow process, Dean at your side the entire time. Even he had to testify and when all was said and done, Dean’s record was cleared and the other guy was put into prison for life. You and Dean finally felt like you could breathe after months and months of uncertainty, and now, now that you could finally breathe, you felt you could address the feelings that had always been there, that had stayed with you since you were in high school.

           You were back home after the final trial, kicking off your heels and letting your hair down as Dean shed his shoes and loosened his tie.

           “I hate this damn monkey suit.” He was struggling to get the buttons undone on his shirt, his jacket thrown over the arm of the couch. You padded over, gently brushing his hands away to help him. It was quiet between the two of you as you helped him with his shirt and pulling his tie from around his neck, laying it on his jacket. His button up fell open to reveal his chiseled torso.

You couldn’t help lightly tracing over his abs, fingers following the dips and lines of his abs. You pushed open his shirt, looking up at him with a smile. He took your hands in his, bringing them up to his lips to press kisses against each of your fingers. You grabbed him by his shirt, yanking him down for a kiss. He gripped you tightly, lifting you with ease. You skirt rode up as he carried you to your room, tossing you onto the bed with a smirk on his face.

“Look at you,” he growled, crawling on top of you. His rough hands were all over your thighs as he pushed them apart, the sound of your skirt ripping filling the air as he tore it from you. “I’ve always wondered what it would be like right here between these beautiful thighs and here I am,” he looked up at you in adoration as he pulled your underwear down your legs, “here I am with you. I’m going to devour you.” His mouth was hot on your pussy, his tongue flat as he licked from your entrance up to your clit, his tongue swirling around the little bundle of nerves. His beard was scratching deliciously against your thighs. He moaned against you, holding your hips down as he used his mouth the get you off, his tongue darting inside you as he pressed his thumb to your clit. You were moaning and writhing against him, hips bucking against his strong hold. “Careful, doll. I want this to last.” He lifted your hips up, making it harder for you to move as he devoured your pussy, his mouth securing around your clit, sucking hard. You were shaking and gasping, your hands gripping whatever you could to try and center yourself.

Dean was relentless in his assault on your pussy, his eyes dark as he looked at you. The look alone made you come, your thighs shaking as you cried out, your hands flying to the back of his head to keep his mouth pressed against you. He moved your hands from his head, kissing your palms before kissing his way up your body to your mouth, nipping your lips and licking into your mouth. You moaned loudly, running your hands over his shaved head. Dean sat back, helping you unbutton your blouse, his hands roaming over your chest as you pulled your bra off, your own hands doing their own exploring across his chest. He shucked off his pants and boxers, rolling so you were on top of him. “Ride me, doll. Ride me like you fucking mean it.” He gripped your ass in his hands, pushing you up with a growl. You took his cock in your hand, lining him up with your entrance. He  _pulled_ you down onto his cock, filling you in ways no one ever had. You were panting as you settled fully onto his cock. Dean wasted no time in buking his hips up into you, lifting you and bringing you back down with ease as he smacked your ass. He smoothed his hands over your ass, giving you a hard smack across the ass, your body trembling as you took all of him with each thrust.

Your nails were scratching his chest, leaving red marks all over him. He suddenly sat up, gripping you tightly to flip you onto your back, hooking your knees over his shoulders to thoroughly plow into you, his hips snapping against yours. “Fuck, doll, fuck. Look at you, taking every inch of me.” He kissed you hard, groaning loudly. “I’m gonna come.” His hips stuttered against yours as he filled you, your legs dropping to wither side of his hips. He rolled off you once he was done, pulling you against him. “I’ve been wanting to do that for so long…” he whispered.

Humming in agreement, you rested your head on his shoulder. “Me too.”

He kissed your forehead. “I guess my feelings are out there now.” He smiled down at you, kissing you softly. “I’m assuming you feel the same way?”

“I have since we were in high school,” you admitted.

He smiled wider. “Can I show you something?”

You nodded, sitting up so he could leave the room. You chose that time to quickly clean yourself up before returning to the bed where he was now, that bundle in his hands you had been wondering about for months now. He undid the string around the bundle, the cloth around it falling open. A stack of your letters were inside that bundle, along with a few pictures of you and a few gifts you had sent him over the years.

“I’ve kept everything you’ve ever given me, along with my favorite letters from you.” He handed you a little stuffed Tigger you had jokingly sent him when you went to Disneyland. “I think this was my favorite one. I don’t know why, but it was the one thing that I could look at when I was in my cell and I knew I’d get to come home to you one day.” His smile was gentle as he looked at you, bringing you in for a kiss. You pulled apart, smiling at one another. “Would you…” He looked down at his hands. “Would you read some of these out loud for me? I always wanted to know what it was like to hear you saying all the things you wrote.”

You gave him a smile, taking the first letter out of its envelope. You laid back, Dean resting his head on your chest as he cuddled you. You read a few letters out loud, happy to finally have your Dean back with you after all this time. You couldn’t have been happier.


End file.
